“Pretty sure. I just spoke with the manager. Got as much confirmation as I can without being on the ground. How quickly can we get there?”

“What did he say?”

“That he can’t discuss it because of privacy. Then he got silent. Twice.”

“He didn’t deny it?”

“Nope.”

“Holy shit. This is fucking huge.”

“I know. I need to do an errand but I can be at the airport in two hours.”

“On it,” he said and hung up.

For once, Matt’s appetite for scandal was a blessing.

With no friends in town and the UnComfort Inn being a decidedly un-dog-friendly environment (more proof that their commitment to comfort was illusory at best), she really had no choice. At least that’s what she told herself as she arrived at James’s place just before 3 p.m. and prayed that he was home. She should have called, but it wasn’t the kind of thing you ask over the phone, and she figured she’d have better luck pleading her case in person.

Buttoning up her pride, she pushed the doorbell and waited. She thought she heard a sound upstairs but when no one emerged, she buzzed again.

Now she heard footsteps on the stairs and felt a sharp pang of worry. What if he slammed the door in her face? He’d have every right to. She’d agreed to go home with him, passed out, bailed abruptly without hooking up or getting breakfast, and was now showing up asking for a favor. I’d make the worst girlfriend ever, she thought.

Looking down at Cronkite, she said, “Act cool. And look cute. We really need him to like us.”

Cronkite looked at her and she could have sworn he was telling her to take her own advice.

The door opened and standing in front of her was a trim African American man in khaki pants and a blue button-down shirt who looked sort of like James but with graying hair.

“Hello, I’m sorry. I’m here for James. I hope I’m not interrupting something. Is he home?”

The man’s eyebrows shot up. “You’re a friend of James?”

She nodded, wondering if there was a problem. Maybe James had another girl upstairs? Maybe? Probably! He probably has to feign illness and fight women off when he wants to spend a Saturday alone. She should have called first.

“Is this a bad time?” she asked nervously.

The man pushed his lips together and shook his head as if to say not a bad time at all. Then, without looking away from Natalie, he called over his shoulder, “James! Female visitor here for you! Age appropriate. I think you should come quickly.”

She heard footsteps on the stairs and then James appeared wearing a crisp blue T-shirt and looking surprised to see her.

“Thanks, Dad,” he said. “Can you excuse us?”

Dad? Handsome dad.